


If That Hole's Got a Heart

by simmyschtuff



Category: House M.D.
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 17:28:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19322803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simmyschtuff/pseuds/simmyschtuff
Summary: It's Robbie's first time.





	If That Hole's Got a Heart

Michelle's probably not the prettiest girl in the world, but she's the prettiest one Robert knows.

He supposes he knows her anyway, they've been to the same parties, with the same people, at the same times, but there's always been a body or two between them. He's friends with Todd, though, and he supposes. They've been together long enough, Todd and Michelle, if you're friends with the one, you're friends with the other.

Still, it's nothing short of bizarre when she follows him out to the deck, just Michelle, no Todd or Jeremy or Emily, just Michelle and Robert. Out on the deck. He blinks at her owlishly.

"Nice night," she says before he can ask.

Nice night. Robert's drunken mind fumbles with that, the night is nice. Yes, he agrees after a bit. There is nothing wrong with this night. "Yeah," he gets out.

Michelle smiles, first at the yard, filled with shiny, new cars, driven there by the shiny, rich boys and girls, then at him.

"How old are you Robbie?"

"Fif-- sixteen." He really is sixteen, it's just he spent so long at fifteen. He has a feeling he'll only get used to saying sixteen when he's a year older than that.

She doesn't care, nodding. She's wearing Todd's jacket, but, Robert thinks, when two people are that close, all the time, it seems a little pointless to separate belongings. 

"Wanted some fresh air?" she asks, pulls out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. She looks like a child, the oversized jacket covering her palms, some of her fingers, as she holds the cigarette with her mouth, lighting it with both hands, and Robert feels like he ought to look away, something so pretty shouldn't have anything to do with something so gray and smelly.

The feeling passes almost immediately, though, she takes a deep drag, blows it out thoughtfully.

"You know, I've always liked you," she says, and Robert stumbles on his own two feet but doesn't move anywhere.

"What?"

"You're cute. And sweet."

This is wrong, wrong, wrong, Robert starts drifting toward the door. "Maybe we should go back inside-- Todd--"

"Todd," she sneers. "Fucking Todd."

"What happened?"

"I'm never speaking to him again."

Robert's mind is blown. He's not sure he should ask, but then, maybe she wants him to, she brought it up? "What'd he do?"

"What he always does," she says curtly, and Robert figures she didn't want to talk about it-- "he's just such a jerk. He couldn't come to this party alone, of course not, but now that I'm here he spends the entire time with _Amanda_." She takes a deep, miserable drag. "We're through. That's it. We're done."

"I don't--" Robert fumbles, with himself, his words, his thoughts. Trying to imagine a Todd without a Michelle is daunting. "Do you want me to go grab Todd? You two can talk--"

"We've talked about it before, Robbie," she shakes her head, puts out the cigarette on the wooden rail she'd been leaning on. "You drive?

"I -- yeah," Robert says, gestures in the vague direction of his car.

"You wanna take me home?" She's already making her way down the stairs, her hair is long and blonde and curly and it bounces with each step, and looks soft and shines in the moonlight. 

He stumbles after, it's enough of a yes. She drives, he sits on the passenger side and takes in the new view of his car. He feels too close to the curb, too close to vomiting, too lost in what's happening, "so I'm spending the night?" he asks, the ride's over already, she parks in her driveway, turns off the engine. There's no way he's driving.

She laughs like it's a joke, her small hand hits his arm affectionately and is still giggling as she leads him down the hallway. 

" _Michelle_?" 

She fell back on the bed, she's wiggling out of her skirt, right there, with the door wide open, with Robert just _standing there_. There's a couch, he saw it on the way in. Or maybe out in the car, he could spread out in the back seat and -- Jesus Christ, her shirt flutters to the floor.

"Oh, come on, Robbie, don't you want to have some fun?"

He can't look, if he looks-- he looks down, backing away. "Todd's --"

"Todd isn't here."

"You're drunk," he says feebly.

She laughs at that, Robert realizes she's a lot closer than he'd thought, really, startlingly close, bits of her brush against bits of him, her bits are soft and, and, bizarrely, he thinks of being 9 years old, watching her grade come in from recess, her hair had been out of control for the longest time, frizzy and she'd had thick, multicolored glasses, but Todd had still held her hand at recess, and Robert had still thought her pretty. 

" _You're_ drunk," she corrects gently.

"Todd--" Robert says again, and she grabs his hands in a friendly grip, lifts them up and up and . . . he's touching her, her breasts, which are firm and warm and she closes her eyes and breathes heavily.

"You feel nice," she says. 

Robert kisses Michelle. He thought it'd be hard or awkward, his first real kiss, but it was actually quite easy, fluid and natural, and then they were on the bed, and he couldn't seem to get his hands off her skin, sliding down and around and maybe jumping from one bit to the next, but never away.

"Are you sure?" he asks, one more time, and prays she says yes because he's not sure he could stop now.

"Quite," she says, again, like it's a joke.

He's got a condom, and if Michelle has any thoughts or opinions on his size she keeps it to herself, although she doesn't look disappointed. Robert tells himself that's just as good and tries to believe it. (It's hard, Rick had sounded so knowledgeable; _"If she says it's big, it's average, if she says it's average, it's small, if she says nothing, you're in trouble,"_ but it doesn't seem that simple anymore.)

He has a mental checklist, one that starts and more or less ends with getting on the condom. He's looked up information, he can't imagine any boy who hasn't, but all contradicts itself at some point. First step done, the second step. Second step he's positive about, she had to be . . . ready down there, wet, he _really_ doesn't want her to bleed. _He_ has to make _her_ feel _that_ good, so good she -- wants him in her, and it was all going well, and now his hands are shaking, fucking hell.

Michelle notices. "Why so nervous?" Her voice sounds oddly composed for the situation, to be honest. Troublingly composed.

"I," for a split second he tries to remember if the answer to this is in something he read, _don't be stupid, Robert_. "It's not, you know, I can stop if it bothers you."

"Is it your first time?" she's surprised, and Robert guesses he can take comfort in that. "Well you're a natural then, just . . . here. . . . " she shifts, wiggles down so they're chest to chest, face to face, she's beautiful like this, they're so ridiculously close. Michelle smiles up at him, and they kiss, and Robert repeats it in his head, _he's a natural, then,_ and all but lights up the room with pride.

"Now's good," she whispers up into his mouth a short time later, and he hesitates.

"Are you --"

" _Quite_ sure."

He supposes she's done this before, she should know.

There's no drum roll, no chorus of angels, no great epiphany, but Michelle moaning and that's ten times better than anything he could've hoped for. In, and in, and in and _in_ , his arms are shaking with effort to stay still, when all his body wants to do is _move_ ; she's supposed to adjust, he heard, something about tenting, but as he scrambles for the right terminology she starts squirming beneath him.

"Get on, already," she pants, and he does, _good lord_ , it's so _easy_ , it feels so, so unbelievably good and tight and complete and she's panting beneath him, "Beautiful, _beautiful_ , good job, you're amazing, you're _perfect_ , _Robbie!_ " The world is shaking, rocking with their movement, with Robert's movement, and he reaches down, tangles his hands in curly, soft, _soft_ hair, and Robert wonders at the perfection of this moment, is overwhelmed, comes to pieces when she says, " _I love you!_ "

He makes her come. He thinks. Girls can fake it. It seemed like she came. She falls asleep soon after, Robert makes a mental note to ask if this means anything. It sounds impressive, either way.

She's so fragile, so small at his side, and Robert is aching with a want to fix, mend, care for. Does he have to beat up Todd now? Or, try, at least, Todd was being a jerk or something, he can't imagine paying attention to any other girl, after, _Michelle let him do that_ , he still hasn't caught his breath yet. _She loves me_ , it plays again and again in his head, _I'm a natural, she loves me_.

He pulls her against chest, he falls asleep with his nose buried in curly, blonde hair.

**

"What do you mean, _with Robert_?"

"You're confused? I'm sure it's similar to what you did _with Amanda_."

"He's a . . . " he sputters here, trying to think of a word to properly describe Robert, and why that alone is offensive. "He's _Robert._ "

"So?"

"So, he's _a kid._ " 

"What are you gonna do about it?"

He looks about to hit her, jaw clenched and eyes wide, he looks angry, he looks angry enough to actually keep hitting and hitting until she's dead. But instead he turns to the silently watching Robert, who's just finished piecing together exactly why Michelle had been so insistent he drive her to school that morning. He'd kissed her on the cheek, felt happy in his own home for the first time in a year.

The black eye doesn't heal for a month, and it stings intensely the entire time.


End file.
